“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I snarl. “If you want to keep that fucking hand.”
“Yeahhh.” He bobs his head as if he’s convinced. “Patricide for a fucking piece of ass. You weak, sorry bag of shit.”
I exhale through my nose and spare a glance around. I could smash his fucking skull into the pavement, but everyone’s staring. There isn’t a pair of eyes that isn’t eating up this shit show. I expected Arnold to be pissed, because yeah, he isn’t stupid, and he’s been James’ right-hand man since before I was born, but I didn’t expect him to show up now, with an audience. As much as I despise him, I thought I would spare his dignity and let him go in private. Turns out he doesn’t even deserve that.
“Well, I’m glad you’re finally saying what you really think.” I fold my arms. “Is there anything else before I have you escorted off the property?”
“Oh ho ho, big man now? Must feel pretty good.”
I can’t help the slow grin that spreads across my face as I lean in. “You know what would feel better?” I place a hand on his shoulder as his eyes slide to my profile. “This,” I whisper, and slam my fist into his gut.
He tries to double over, but I hold him upright, digging my fingers into his muscle and keeping the smile on my face as if nothing happened. “In case that wasn’t clear,” I say, “your services will no longer be needed. Now get the fuck out of here.”
He vibrates with rage, trying to straighten as I let him go and step back. But he can’t do anything, and he knows it. There are too many people around, and if he’s no longer protected by Landon Enterprises, he better watch where he shits. “You’regonna regret this,” he finally says, but he glances at Kira when he says it, and I lose my composure.
Grabbing him by his shirt, I yank him toward me. “Tryanything,” I growl, “and you’ll lose more than your job.”
He laughs, his body jostling with unperturbed amusement. Crazy fucker. “Donotmake me kill you, Arnold.”
I spent more of my childhood with him than James, and while he wasn’t kind, he wasn’t unnecessarily cruel. He taught me how to survive in this world, tipping me off when James’ cases didn’t go his way and how to lay low when he was on the war path. He took me drinking when my mother died, didn’t backhand me for crying like James did. Heraisedme. Killing him would be sweet on the tongue but sharp going down.
“Try it, pup.” He rips from my grip. “I’ll put you in the ground before you can even pull the trigger.”
“You forget yourself.” I point a finger at him. “You taught me everything I know, which means I know all your moves, Arnold. Don’t underestimate me.” I lower my voice. “James did, and look where he is now.” I eye the body bag.
It may be bullshit, but it hits all the same, and his nostrils flare. “We’ll see, Jaxy.” He backs away. “We’ll see.”
I grit my teeth. If he’s determined to dig his own grave, then so be it. All old dogs have to be put down eventually. And this is the start of a new era.
Chapter Sixty-One
Kira
Ikeep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the only thing that drops is my truck. It makes a clanking sound as the tow truck releases it in the drive of my house.
Myhouse.
I give a glance behind me, slightly embarrassed at the size of it, at thenicenessof it. I don’t know how Jax did it, but he had the keys in my hand within three days of the fire. It’s nowhere near as big as James’ mansion—I vetoed all those options despite Jax’s pushing—but it’s still larger than anything I ever hoped to live in, and there’s not an empty house next door that I need to check on constantly. Idly, I wonder if anyone has reported Nosy Nellie missing yet when I’m pulled from my thoughts.
“You Kira Noland?” The tow truck driver doesn’t look at me as he unhooks the chain on my fender.
“Yep,” I say.
“You gotta sign something. Don’t go nowhere.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I say and try to be patient while he does his thing. The truck may be a piece of shit, but I’ve missed it. Cloverwick PD took their sweet time returning it despite the Marshal Wayne case being closed. Apparently, they found somedocumentationof him skipping the country, reinforced by theevidencethat he was involved with some shady affairs that went south. I don’t know how much Jax paid to make that happen, but I shudder to imagine it. Layton must be livid.
It’s the first snow of the season, and I crunch over the sleet to get a better look at something flapping in the bed of the truck. Careful not to slip, I brace myself against the icy metal and lean over. I’m met with sheets of cardboard, slightly wilted from moisture. My brows come together until I freeze when I spot a reddish-brown smudge.
Oh, my god.
I quickly look around, feeling exposed in broad daylight. But there’s no one out except the driver, and he’s bent over beneath the hood, threading a chain. Heart picking up pace, I grab a clean piece of the cardboard we used to cover Marshal’s body that night and maneuver it over the bloody one. Jesus, did the forensics people see it? They had to have seen it. They had to. And they just… sent it back to me?
What in the world did Jax do?
“All in one piece?”
I startle at the sound of his voice, spinning around and slipping on a piece of ice. I’m about to land on my ass when his strong arms catch me.
